Chapter 34 Navy Achebe
Thirty-Four
Navy Achebe
We entered the front doors of the restaurant, and into a wave of warm light and loud chatter floating through the room.
"Name, please?" the hostess asked.
"Gravehart," I answered, and immediately felt foolish for using Honor's last name.
"Ah, right this way." She smiled, stepping from behind her podium.
Maison, the new basketball coach, gestured for me to walk first. I stayed a half step ahead of him as we followed her through the main dining area.
The smell of garlic butter and seared steak hung in the air, reminding my stomach that I had missed lunch after telling Chosyn I'd order food when she was on her way out.
"Um, where are we going?" I whispered to Maison, who'd fallen in step with me.
"You'll see." He winked.
The hostess led us past the regular seating area where tables sat close enough for you to hear bits of everyone's conversations.
We continued toward the back, where the ambiance felt quieter, and soft jazz blanketed the room.
The booths lined the wall, tucked far enough from each other.
Couples who were already seated leaned toward each other across flickering candles, voices barely a whisper.
All of it felt too romantic for a business dinner.
The hostess stopped at one of the secluded booths and gestured politely.
"This is your table for the night."
I turned to her quickly.
"Uh, this isn't the reservation I made," I said, glancing between her and the table. "We were supposed to be in the main dining area."
"Your original reservation was changed."
I looked at Maison, who was smiling as if he were about to receive a "Good boy".
"You changed the reservation?"
"I figured if we were going to celebrate, then we might as well do it right." He grinned, sliding into the booth.
"If you like, I can try to find a table in the main dining area," the hostess offered.
"Uh, no, this will be fine. Thank you."
"Your server will be with you shortly." She smiled. "Enjoy your night."
"Thank you," Maison grinned.
Rolling my eyes, I slid into the booth but kept my distance, so Maison didn't get the wrong idea. It was clear he walked into Gravehart Homes for the coaching job and left thinking he had a chance with me.
"Maison, I find it very inappropriate that you'd change the reservation without speaking to me first," I said plainly.
"I thought women liked it when men take initiative."
"Women who are looking to date might prefer that," I corrected. "But I'm not a woman looking to date."
He shifted in the booth.
"I'm a woman looking to provide the boys with a basketball coach who cares more about teaching the game than getting to know me."
"I do care about teaching them the game," he said. "I just think a hard-working woman like yourself deserves to be catered to. Dealing with all those bad ass boys has to be exhausting for someone as delicate as you."
Before I could lean away, his stubby fingers lifted from the table and brushed against my cheek.
"Can you please not do that again?" I hissed, smacking his hand away. "And never in your life refer to those boys as bad ass."
His smile faltered.
"They already have society labeling them because of where life placed them. They don't need a mentor looking at them in the same fashion."
"Oh no." He laughed awkwardly. "I didn't mean any harm by it. I was just trying to make light of the situation."
"Yeah, well, don't."
I forced a half smile and grabbed one of the drink menus from the table. As I scanned the list of alcoholic beverages, trying to decide which one might make this dinner a little more tolerable, a figure approaching our table caught my attention from the corner of my eye.
"Good evening." Something in my chest stuttered upon hearing the familiar, low, and controlled voice.
Maison looked up casually. "Hey, how's it going, man?"
His eyes settled on me, dark and unblinking.
My stomach dropped to the floor the second our eyes caught.
My pulse slammed against my ribs as the room suddenly felt ten degrees colder.
Honor stood there wearing a black apron tied around his waist, notepad in hand, like he actually worked here.
His posture was calm, and his expression blank, but the tension I felt rolling off was heavy like a loaded gun sitting on the table between us.
"You okay, Navy?" Maison asked, looking between Honor and me.
Honor's jaw twitched at the question. "What can I get y'all started with tonight?"
My throat went dry at the murderous glint in his eyes.
"Water," I blurted.
Honor's eyes never left mine. "For you?"
"Uh, yeah, water is fine."
Honor scribbled something on his notepad like this was all perfectly normal. Then he leaned close enough for only me to hear.
"You look real comfortable with a nigga that isn't me," he murmured. "I don't like that shit."
My fingers tightened in my lap. Honor straightened back up and gave Maison a polite nod.
"I'll be right back with your water," he informed us before walking away.
The second he was out of earshot, Maison frowned.
"You know him?"
I stared at the table for a moment, trying to steady my breathing.
"Yes," I quietly answered.
"Is he an ex or something because things seemed pretty tense between the two of you?" Maison asked.
Before I could answer him, Honor was back with our water.
"Here you go," he announced, setting the glasses down on the table in front of us.
His eyes glared at Maison for a second before washing over me.
"My shift is over," he added with an easy smile. "My replacement will take care of you."
Maison nodded politely. "No problem. Enjoy the rest of your night."
Maison lifted his glass and took a long sip of water. I barely noticed at first as I watched Honor disappear through the kitchen doors. My stomach started knotting because Honor never walked away from something he wanted.
"Nice guy," Maison chuckled, setting the glass down. "He didn't even say goodbye."
"Right," I muttered, not really listening.
Maison took another sip, then another, and a moment later, he cleared his throat.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
Maison shifted in the booth, rolling his shoulders as if he were trying to loosen a stiff suit jacket he wasn't wearing.
"Yeah… uh—" he coughed lightly. "Throat's dry."
He reached for the water again and halfway through the sip, his movements slowed.
"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked again, this time paying more attention.
"Yeah, I'm just… tired all of a sudden."
Something about the way he said it made my heart drop. His fingers tightened around the glass before he set it down.
"Maybe you should sit back, and I'll ask if they can lower the heat," I told him.
Maison leaned against the booth, rubbing his chest like his body suddenly weighed more than it should have.
Across the room, the doors opened, and Honor stepped out.
His eyes went straight to our table, then to the glass in front of Maison and back to me.
A slow smile touched the corners of his mouth, and in that moment, my blood ran cold.
Maison reached for his glass again, not realizing the water was the reason he wasn't feeling well.
Halfway through the swallowing, he paused, brows pulling together.
"Maison!" I called out, frantic.
"I'm…I'm fine… just dizzy," he muttered, blinking hard like he was trying to focus on something across the room.
"Maison, I think we should—" I started but didn't get the chance to finish.
His glass slipped from his fingers and shattered against the floor.
His body sagged forward, then slid sideways out of the booth.
The sound of him hitting the ground cracked through the restaurant like a single gunshot.
For a second, the entire room went silent.
Then someone screamed, and everyone knew Maison was dead.
The headlights from my car washed over the front of Gravehart Homes as I pulled into the driveway. The restaurant was only forty-five minutes away, but it felt like I'd been driving for hours. My hands were still shaking from answering the same questions from the police officer over and over.
"Did he mention feeling sick prior to arriving at the restaurant?"
"Do you know if he took any medication?"
"What is your relationship with the deceased?"
They asked each question as if my answers would miraculously change.
"No, he didn't mention being sick."
"I didn't know him well enough to know if he took any medication."
"We have no relationship other than me hiring him as the new basketball coach at the group home I manage."
I answered each question as the officer's pen scratched across his notepad, his eyes glued to my face, waiting for me to slip up.
And every question was just another opportunity for me to relive the moment…
the glass slipping from Maison's hand, and the crack of it shattering right before his body hit the floor.
Everyone in the restaurant looked at me like I was supposed to know what happened.
Like I had the answers just because I was sitting across from him when he died.
By the time they finally let me leave, I was beyond tired and emotionally wrung out.
Cutting the engine, I looked toward the steps and let out a frustrated breath. Honor sat there like he was welcoming me home after doing a three-year bid upstate. I swung my door open and hopped out, slamming it behind me.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I shouted as I marched toward him. "That man is fucking dead, Honor!"
Honor slowly stood without an ounce of remorse on his face.
"Do you hear me? Dead! You killed him! You fucking killed him!"
My hands started flying before I could stop them. Pushing, hitting, clawing at his shirt as everything inside me broke loose at once. Honor grabbed my wrists, pulling me against him to keep me from swinging.
"Navy—"
"Get the fuck off me!" I cried. "You fucking killed him!"
"And I'll kill the next muthafucka you think about letting taste your pussy," he growled against my ear.
"It wasn't even him!" I screamed. "You killed him, and it wasn't even fucking him who—"
The porch light suddenly snapped on. The front door swung open, and Mekhi stepped outside.
My heart stuttered in my chest because of the way he stood there. Shoulders squared, chin lifted, jaw tight, Mekhi looked so much like his father that it made something ugly twist in my stomach. Then a low growl rumbled out of him, and I almost lost it.
"Get the fuck off her!"
Honor went completely still. I felt it instantly. His body temperature rose under my touch, and his grip tightened for half a second before loosening again like a nervous pulse.
"Mekhi," I quickly intervened, "go back inside."
"I'm not leaving you with him," he said, stepping further into the light.
Honor looked down at him, then back at me, and even though my heart couldn't break any more than it already had, it shattered again. It was probably ash at this point.
"Go inside, Navy," Honor quietly said, letting me go.
I grabbed Mekhi by the arm and pushed him through the door.
"Go to bed," I snapped, my voice shaking.
"Are you—"
"Bed! Now!"
Mekhi hesitated before slowly turning and heading down the hallway.
The second he was gone, the emotional toll of tonight crashed into me without warning.
I stumbled into my office and slammed the door.
My legs gave out before I even made it to my chair, and my tears came hard and fast. It felt like everything I've been holding together since the day I stopped Honor from killing himself finally tore out of me.
Talon was dead.
Lucian was dead.
Maison was dead.
Honor fucked Choyce.
My relationship was over.
And Honor sat at the center of it all.
But the worst part of it all weighed on my heart like a load I couldn't lift. Tonight, Honor met his son, and Mekhi met his father, but I was the only person who knew.